outer ][ space

In 2018, I started a newsletter on club culture called outer ][ space. During lockdown, I transformed it into a book of flyers, photos, and essays documenting my journey into the rave. The print version is sold out, but you can view the PDF version here.

One year ago, on a warm summer evening in Berlin, I waited with one of my best friends outside of the windowless power station known as Tresor. Countless moments from that night are seared into my memory. Trepidation as we approached the bouncer, seeing group after group ahead of us sent away. Electricity over my skin as we gingerly stepped through this fortress of steel and concrete. Arms on each other’s shoulders as we descended into the foggy mineshaft towards the dance floor. Hands gripped to steel pipes, rocking my body to the beat.

I returned to New York City with an obsession. My entire life, I had craved this experience not knowing where to find it, continually disappointed by concerts, clubs, and festivals - but now I knew what I was looking for. I went to every party I could find, testing out each venue, genre, and crowd. I found techno, and through techno I discovered house, electro, hardcore, bass, breaks, funk, soul, noise, ambient, and so much more. I met incredible people who love music and movement more than I ever could have imagined.

At the same time, I wrote about my experiences. It started as a chain of emails with that same friend. We shared long, rambling stories and dumped all our thoughts as we explored our respective scenes in NYC and DC, feeding off each other’s excitement. Then I started this newsletter.

outer ][ space is an expression of my love for this culture. Through this writing, I want to share the joys of the rave with other people. I want to remember great nights and learn from bad nights. I want to foster conversations on safety and inclusivity. I want to understand why these sounds invoke such control over our bodies.

Let’s go to fucking outer space, my friends.